


Yesterday, All My Troubles Seemed So Far Away

by turdysevenirishmen



Series: Late Nights In the Early Seventies [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Blood and Violence, Established Relationship, Gun Violence, Near Death, Possible Character Death, Triggers, stylan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:22:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turdysevenirishmen/pseuds/turdysevenirishmen
Summary: "An unspeakable tragedy confirmed to us by BBC News in London: Harry Styles, outside of his apartment building—one half of the Stylan duo—shot twice in the back and in critical condition. The shooter was immediately arrested at the scene of the crime."
Relationships: Niall Horan/Harry Styles
Series: Late Nights In the Early Seventies [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018495
Comments: 26
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

It was biting cold out, the kind of biting, penetrating wind that sinks into one’s bones, and throughout their short walk, Niall felt like he’d been freezing solid all the way through. He pulled his coat tighter around himself, catching Harry’s eye in the process. Harry gave him a secret little smile, the one reserved for him and him alone, the kind he liked to collect in his head for another day, and Niall instantly felt just a bit warmer as they took another leisurely, synchronous step forward.

Harry’s eyes were so, so bright, and Niall could see the radiant love in them, his private spectacle. He watched as Harry opened his mouth to speak, and before any sound came out, Niall already knew what it was he was going to say, could still hear the start a second later, whispered as it was.

“I lo—” Something akin to fireworks rang out in rapid succession from somewhere behind them, and glass exploded overhead and to the side. Niall watched, almost in slow motion, as Harry’s smile wavered and then dropped. “Ni- _Niall_ ,” he said, swaying, falling into his arms. 

Distantly, he heard screams as he pushed back his jacket to reveal bright crimson splotches blooming through the pale blue fabric of his jumper. Niall felt a fear that kept him colder than he’d had ever known, something the near-zero temperature of the day couldn’t compare to. The glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose were blood-splattered, one lense obscured almost entirely. Harry groaned, his face paler than Niall had ever seen it, and his lips parted slightly to let a sliver of his tongue through. 

Niall was sagging under his weight, eventually giving in and dropping to his knees, cradling him. His brain was screaming at him to call for help, but when he moved his mouth to do so, he realized that incessant shrieking had been him. His voice was raw as he called out, but Harry’s moving against him distracted him, drawing his attention back down.

“I love you; you know that? More than I ever thought it was possible to love another person, sunshine.” It didn’t sound like an ‘I love you,’ it sounded like a _goodbye_.

“I love you too, baby, but please don’t say that, please, not right now.” He groaned, and his eyes fluttered shut. He didn’t look quite so pained; he looked like he was just falling asleep. Like all of their lazy Sundays lie-ins after they’d made love for hours, and that’s where he should be, in bed with him, safe and sound and wrapped up in his arms away from the world.

“You’ve changed me.” He said it so quietly, Niall could barely catch the end over the distant siren noises that just weren’t close enough. Harry coughed, a thin line of scarlet trailing from his mouth, steadily growing thicker and flowing faster. 

“No,” he started, “No, no, no, _no, Harry_!” He sobbed so hard he couldn’t see properly, hands shaking as they tried to apply pressure to the various wounds, and ears searching for any sort of exhalations or inhalations, any signs of life at all. This wasn’t supposed to happen; they were supposed to retire peacefully as anything, stargazing every night and cooking up Harry’s little inventions together whenever the fancy struck him for the rest of their lives. “What about the English fucking countryside, Harry, you _promised_! Y-you—don’t _leave_ me!”

The sirens sounded like they’re everywhere, and suddenly, there were police officers all around him, surrounding Harry’s body and assessing the extremity of his wounds, until Niall was pushed outside of the ring. He watched as they carried him into a cop car, loading him onto the back with haste. He’d already known the damage was extensive, but the knowledge of just how severe his wounds were slapped him in the face again. They couldn’t even wait for the ambulances, sure to some. 

A second after, he was being herded into a separate car to follow, a morbid procession.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

He spent the ride over in a daze and feeling like he was in a nightmare. _Nightmare_. That wasn’t an appropriate term for the horror of this situation because then, he would wake up to Harry reading another shitty, pretentious novel with a smile, waiting to tell him all of the details, and he’d be assured that none of this was real. 

But it was real, all of it, and the love of his life was bleeding out on cheap leather in the back of a police cruiser. Fresh horror rose in him in the form of bile as they drove, and he fought to keep it down and to quell the utter despair that threatened to spill from his every pore. 

Life happened in flashes, stretches of road and pedestrians unaware and free, and eventually, the hospital looming before him.

As soon as he was within distance, Niall burst out of the moving cab, stumbling as he ran and bursting into the emergency room. There was a flurry of activity around him, and behind him, he could hear someone calling his name. He was lost and distraught and terrified as he whirled around for someone to tell him whether or not he’d come out on the other side of this missing his second half. 

“Mr. Horan?” Immediately Niall spun on his heel, coming to face a grave-looking doctor. Dumbly he nodded, desperate for any sort of information, spying the _Dr Halleran_ stitched on the breast of his coat.

“He’s just been taken to surgery. We’re trying our best to stabilize hi–”

“Is he going to make it?” The doctor looked sympathetic at that, adjusting the frames on his nose.

“We’re trying the best we can, Mr Horan, and he’s lost a lot of blood.” He could see what the man wasn't telling him, the truth of the matter clear as day in the doctor’s words. The thought that Harry wouldn’t make it, that he’d be alone in the world left him cold and broken as tears welled up in his eyes. 

“ _Save_ him, _please_!” The first of the tears fell as his voice cracked, turning torrential in what felt like a moment.

“He’s in good hands here, and we’re doing everything in our power. You will be notified of any updates to his condition” Niall took a moment to himself, to let himself fully embrace the agony he was in, before beating it back and attempting to compose himself. He realized he was going to have to break the news to Anne and Gemma and do it fast before they found out from anywhere else.

“Delay the release of the news for ten, I need to-I need to tell…” Tears blurred his vision, but he scrubbed at his face, straightening up for some semblance of composure.

With a nod, the doctor was off, and Niall was saddled with the responsibility of informing Anne and Gemma about the tragedy, almost paralyzed with grief as he thought of the task before him. Glancing at the clock mounted on a wall, Niall was shocked to his core to find that, in all, it had really only been about twenty minutes, which had proven to be more than enough time to turn everything on its head. And now he was going to have to upend two other people’s lives, expose two people who he cares so deeply for, to this kind of pain.

Holding a phone as it rang, he stared out at nothing, almost hoping Anne wouldn’t answer, but it wasn’t to be.

“Hello?”

***

Anne screamed when she heard. A pained wail that conveyed the same heart-wrenching pain inside of him, something that couldn’t possibly ever be put into words, only expressed with a primitive cry of desolation and of grief so deep it threatens to swallow one whole. Gemma was quieter about it, but no less pained, the quiet sobs staying with him even after the line went dead.


	3. Chapter 3

Waiting, waiting, and more waiting. Anne and Gemma arrived within the hour, and they all sat together in their personal purgatories, _waiting_. Anne had her hands clasped as if she was praying, while Gemma had a hand over her mouth as if she might scream if she took it away. And Niall? He fidgeted and paced like he’s always done, like Harry’s always teased him for. _“My shaky warrior.”_

He couldn't shake the despair that threatened to choke him with every passing second, and the guilt that made him want to curl in on himself. He should’ve started applying pressure soon, _seen_ something, _noticed_ something, and on and on in a loop until he had a pounding headache. 

The more he replayed the events leading to what had to be the worst thing that’s ever happened to him, the sicker he felt. He twisted the ring Harry had given him around and around until there was a red, raw strip underneath it, and Anne took up his hand to stop him.

~*~

_The cold of the winter air hit him as soon as they’d left the lobby of Harry’s apartment. It was so cold, it almost felt like his lungs were burning as he inhaled, the slightest movement of his cheeks beginning to sting. The fans gathered around, something that had become a regular occurrence, squealed when they stepped out, coming forward for their chance to meet him and Harry. It was still insane to him that people would ever line up in the cold for his signature, but he was beyond grateful for their dedicated fans._

_They split up to sign the various items brought to them, having a chat here and there with the bold ones. Seeing their faces light up when he handed back their signed vinyl and whatever else they had on hand always warmed Niall up inside. He loved being able to touch people’s lives like that and bring genuine happiness from something as simple as a hug, and connecting to all of these people through their lyrics, their music._

_Niall watched as Harry wandered further and further through the crowd, stopping at a lone man bundled up against the chill in a tan coat. Finishing up with the remaining fans, he joined him, greeting the rather peculiar man he was engaged with._

_“Is that all you want?” Harry said, gesturing to the book he was preparing to sign. Niall saw it was a copy of_ Double Fantasy _, the novel Harry had raved about for weeks. The gentlemen only smiled, accepting the book and putting it in his coat. Niall looked him over a second longer, feeling somewhat disturbed at how wide his mouth stretched across his fleshy face and the blank stare in his eyes. A click and a flash went off, immortalizing the moment, and Niall turned to see a photographer preparing for another shot._

 _With another photo, he and Harry set off for their stroll. Niall had never liked winter all that much, the season wearing a little too long for his liking cold as it was, but he could always appreciate the beauty of a city blanketed by powdery snow. His thoughts turned back to the_ Rolling Stone _interview they’d done the day before in New York. He was still buzzing off of it, filled with the disbelief and in awe of everything. Though this had been their second cover, Niall didn't think he could ever get used to something like that._

_He's living dreams that, even in his most wild imaginings, he’d never thought he’d realize alongside the love of his life. It’s all he’s ever wanted, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself as they walked, lost in his thoughts._

_Quick as anything, Harry’s hand darted out to snatch his glasses off of his face. Niall’s eyes watered as a strong gust blew._

_“_ Harold _,” he said, disgruntled by Harry’s antics. He just hummed as if he hadn’t heard, walking a few steps ahead with Niall’s frames on his face. “You’re going to ruin your eyes like that, and give me my glasses back!”_

_Harry continued to ignore him, now cheerily singing out some half-finished tune as he practically bounced forward._

_“Glasses!” And when that didn’t work, he sighed. “_ Harry! _” He jogged forward to keep up with him, scowling when Harry turned and finally acknowledged him._

_“These? Are you asking for these?” He tapped at the frames, smirking like the twat he was. “Sorry, but they’re mine now.”_

_“You’re a child.” They’ve randomly come to a stop, standing close enough for Niall to see the gold flecks in Harry’s eyes. There are people all around them, going about their lives and contributing to the bustle of London, but it was like they weren’t there. Niall was sure he might do something stupid, something reckless the longer they stood like that. He could see his breath on the frigid air as it mingled with Harry’s. Looking in those eyes he loved so much, it’s like nothing else had ever mattered quite as much as that shade of green._

_The slow smile that spread across Harry’s face broke the moment up. “Mine,” he mouthed, turning and sauntering forward._

_“You absolute_ tit! _”_

_“My, lover, you have such a way with words.” Niall laughed loud enough that the couple a little ways off looked at them curiously. For a second, he worried they’d been recognized, but the two just went their own way, hand in hand and huddled together for warmth. Niall looked after them, envying the simple but public display of affection._

_When they turned back onto their street, it was noticeably darker. Snowflakes began to drift from the sky, the little pricks of cold falling onto him before melting away to nothing. He tilted his head back, catching them on his tongue like when he was a boy. Glancing over at Harry at his side, he saw that the little crystals had begun to collect on his eyelashes and in his hair. The look of adoration on his face took his breath away, and Niall quickly turned his head to look elsewhere, flushed from that alone. He noticed that most of the fans had cleared out, but his eyes caught on the tan coat, one which he recognized._

_“Niall,” Harry said at his side, hushed, drawing his attention away as they climbed the stairs. A secret little smile meant just for him played at Harry’s lips._ _“I lo–”_

~*~

“I met him.” Niall’s voice carried through the deathly still waiting room. Anne and Gemma lifted their heads, grief already etched into their faces after the couple of hours they’d been waiting. “Oh my God, I met him. We shook his hand, we signed his book, _we took a photo with him!_ ” 

His breath came out in shallow spurts as the man’s face came to mind again, and his chair made a horrible squeak against the floor when he jumped out of it. Vomit rose in his throat with a fury, spewing from between the fingers he’d slapped up in an effort to stop the gush.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> No clue where I found the time to update so soon, but the deed is done.


End file.
